


the thing that beats in your chest has been at rest (but i try my best)

by drippingcandie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drinking to Cope, Getting Together, Habitual Drinking, M/M, Making Up, Recreational Drinking, Switching Points of View, Tutor!Ben, almost every scene has alcohol but it's not part of the plot i'm sorry, dad!stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drippingcandie/pseuds/drippingcandie
Summary: “Why don't you tell Mr. Hanscom you'll see him next week so we can get out of here? Sound good, Parker?” Stan suggests it rather politely, and he doesn't look like he's in any rush to leave.Parker looks down at his shoes, red sneakers with Spider-man on the sides that light up when he stomps just right, and then up at Ben. “Bye, Mr. Hanscom!” His little feet start heading towards the door, but Stan doesn't move. “See ya next week!”





	the thing that beats in your chest has been at rest (but i try my best)

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from baltimore by mal blum!
> 
> i definitely didn't get everything i wanted to do with parker, stan, or ben in this fic so this is establishing a verse i suppose .

“”Listen to this,” Klaus said. “Putt-putt-””

“Sound it out, Parker.” Ben said gently, leaning towards the young boy who had a book in his lap. He had always found it peculiar that Parker didn’t point to each word as he read like most children his age did, instead choosing to follow with just his eyes.

“Putt-a-nes...Nesca. Puttanesca.” The seven year old boy’s eyebrows scrunched together rather thoughtfully. By chapter four, Parker had stopped asking Ben what words meant. Lemony Snicket knew his audience and knew they were full of questions. The author in question usually managed to answer Parker’s questions within a sentence or too.

“That’s right.” Ben nodded, leaning back a bit as Parker continued on. 

“”It’s an Italian sauce for pasta. All we need to do is….saute olives, cappers-”

“Check that word again.” Ben interjected, although not rudely. It was his job as Parker’s tutor afterall, and Ben, a man full of soft spots, had an even bigger soft spot for Parker Blum. The kid was bright, which was why his mother sought out a tutor to challenge him.

Ben always enjoyed working with kids. Kids seemed to enjoy working with him too. That’s why he often found himself in the children’s section of the library, helping the kids pick out appropriate literature for their age. He hadn’t thought about tutoring until a frazzled Mrs. Blum came into the library after three days of Parker being enrolled in first grade at Derry Elementary. He had only meant to help her pick out some exciting books for her son, but Parker was in tow and asked so many questions.

What first grader was interested in the Dewey Decimal System? Parker, apparently. 

Now it was October. Leaves were turning orange, the wind was getting chillier, and the Derry Public Library was definitely getting cozier. Parker seemed to be enjoying tutoring sessions more and more each week, and Ben definitely was not complaining.

After two minutes, Parker had corrected his pronunciation of capers and read off the rest of the ingredients that were listed for puttanesca sauce.

“Let’s put a bookmark in and save it for next week, yeah?” Parker nodded, following Ben’s instructions and handing over the book. “Who’s your favorite character so far?”

“Klaus.” Parker responded without hesitation.

“Oh, really?” Ben isn’t as surprised as he sounds. Klaus, although a bit more spontaneous and ill tempered than Parker, has a lot in common with the boy. “I thought you would like Justice Strauss.”

“She is  _ not  _ smart, Mr. Hanscom.”

Ben stifles a laugh that was bubbling at the back of his throat. “I think she is, but Klaus is smarter.” Ben supplies.

“Yep!”

Ben glances at his watch, just to check the time. It was 4:03. Not that he was impatient or didn’t mind Parker hanging around the library, but Mrs. Blum was almost never late to picking up her son. The woman seemed to have a good sense of time, probably stemming from what was overwhelming concern for her son and his education.

Parker was obviously not as concerned as he took off towards the hopscotch rug that sat in the middle of the children’s section in the library. He was a bundle of energy, and his velcro shoe clad feet began jumping up and down the length of the rug only after he checked to see if there were any grownups besides Ben watching.

    That was another thing about Parker. Ben felt a need to protect the boy, and he saw a lot of himself in the child. His self consciousness, his love of reading, his ingenuity. Ben wanted to be the role model that he didn't have when he was growing up. 

    He's sure Parker would tell him he was doing a damn good job. 

    Ben got up from his place at the kids table and made his way towards the S shelf, intending to properly put the book away. On some days, Parker would offer to do it. Today was not one of those days, probably due to the fact that the rain outside had gotten recess cancelled, according to the kid. 

      His thoughts, whatever they were at the time, were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. 

      “Excuse me.” The voice was definitely that of a mans, verging on impatient. Ben turned and-

      Wow. 

      Ben could write poetry for hours about people he found beautiful, but he was afraid that words would not do this man justice. Curls sat on top of his head, although none of them looked the least bit out of place. His fingers, long and pale, seemed to switch between fidgeting with on of the curls or the edge of the black turtle neck he was wearing. Even the fidgeting didn't seem nervous, more like a tick. In his other hand was a black umbrella that was considerately shaken out before bringing it into the library-

      “Excuse me?” The words came out as more of a question this time, eyebrow and the side of his mouth quirking slightly. 

       Ben felt a bit like a fish out of water, hand still on the book he had placed on the shelf. His mouth was parted slightly and his eyes were a little too wide. “I wasn't staring.”  _ Well, shit. The guy may not be a lie detector, but that was obvious.  _

__     “I know.” The man says simply, and Ben can hear a bit of humor in the strangers voice. 

      He bites back the urge to smile.:.This whole ordeal felt incredibly juvenile. Like the first time Beverly Marsh had looked him in the eyes when he was buying candy from the pharmacy back in middle school. In that moment, he knew she would change his life. It felt monumental, even if he didn't know in what way. 

     This felt the same. 

     Ben knew he was also probably being dramatic. Bev told him he got ahead of himself often, and Mike usually agreed. He's pretty sure after his short relationship with Beverly, ending once she told him she realized girls were more her thing, he think he fell in love at least three times a week. 

     People at the supermarket, people who came up on his social media feed, the people that often just passed through town once. This, however, felt like a severe case of deja vu. 

     “Is Parker Blum here?” The man says, glancing past Ben. 

     Ben doesn't think much when he responds. “Who's asking?”

     The man scoffs, but it's not demeaning. In fact, Ben thinks that's probably the closest he'll hear to a laugh.The man sticks out his hand, and Ben can't help but notice how perfectly manicured his nails are. “Stanley Uris.” 

     Ben doesn't feel like an idiot often, but the feeling was here now. He assumed it wouldn't go away until Stanley was gone. Reaching out, he gave Stans hand a feeble shake. “Ben Hanscom.” He sputtered. 

      “Ben.” There's a somewhat happy lilt in the voice time. “I've heard a lot about y-” Stan begins, but is interrupted but a flurry of movement. 

“Poppa!” Parker tumbles into Stanley’s long legs, almost knocking him over. He seems to have a pretty good sense of balance, however, and Parker wraps around the man’s legs.

_ Oh.  _

__ Stanley was Parker’s father. 

       Just when Ben thought he could not feel any more idiotic, he was proven wrong. Now that the two were standing next to each other, it was almost obvious. The dark color of Parker’s hair wasn't sandy like Stanley's , but the curls were almost distinctly the same. Along with the shape of his nose and eyebrows, Parker and Stanley looked extremely similar. 

         “How's it going, kiddo?” 

          Parker doesn't seem to hear the question as his father ruffles his hair. Instead, he tilts his head a bit. “What're ya doin’ here?” He shoots back. 

          Ben tries not to squirm as Stanley's face falls a bit, and it's hard not to see that the man is disappointed. Stans fingers go to the back of his neck. 

         “You don't have school tomorrow, kid.” He glances up at Ben, who shies away from the eye contact all together. “Your mom said you could come over for an extra day.”

         Ben had always thought it was weird that Parker never talked about his home life, or his parents at all really. One time, he checked out a book to a kid who told his whole family history in two minutes. Parker seemed to be an outlier, not wanting to overshare or not feeling the need to. 

        The awkward air around the father and son evaporate once Parkers face lights up. “Really? What're we gonna do? Do you gotta work? Can we stay up late? Will you-”

         Stanley smiles back, looking down at Parker. Ben didn't realize how short the man was, in comparison to most guys, and he must've stood at about 5’7”. 

         “I'll come up with something fun, and no, I don't have to work.” He pauses for a moment as if he's cataloged all of his child’s questions in his head. “We might be able to, if you're extra good. And yes, I'll read to you.”

        “You gotta tell Mr. Hanscom that it's way funner that way.” Parker insists. 

        Stan looks up and makes eye contact with Ben, and Ben wishes that he would look away. He doesn't have the heart to break eye contact with him after all. 

          It's a small upturn of the lips and a glint of something Ben can't describe in Stans eyes that make him a bit nervous. “I think Mr. Hanscom knows what he's doing.”

          “In the book? In the book he's makin’ me read, all the grown ups are stupid.”

           “Hey!” Ben can't help but feel like he's butting in. “We don't use that word.”

           Stan laughs, although Ben doesn't believe it's at him at all. He rests a hand on Parker’s head. “See? I told you he knows what he's doing.”

           Parker pouts, but Ben feels his heart catch in his own throat. The praise isn't something he gets often from anyone besides the old women who have their book club meetings at the library on Tuesday nights. It's different coming from someone who's presumably his age, someone who's attractive-

           Parker’s dad. 

           “Why don't you tell Mr. Hanscom you'll see him next week so we can get out of here? Sound good, Parker?” Stan suggests it rather politely, and he doesn't look like he's in any rush to leave. 

            Parker looks down at his shoes, red sneakers with Spider-man on the sides that light up when he stomps just right, and then up at Ben. “Bye, Mr. Hanscom!” His little feet start heading towards the door, but Stan doesn't move. “See ya next week!”

            Ben tries to pretend he didn't notice the wink Stan threw in his direction as he followed his son. 

      He also tried not to think about it through the course of the week. Ben has this terrible habit of becoming obsessive about one thing and never letting it go. Not this time. 

      He didn't even tell Beverly or Mike about the ordeal. Guilt overtook him for a few seconds when it came to that aspect, but it's not like he was lying. Just withholding the truth. Luckily, on Monday, the situation righted itself. 

“Someone asked about our boy today, Miss Marsh.” Mike announces as he walks through the door of their shared apartment. Mike has a bag slung over his shoulder, full of research presumably, which he throws on the couch beside Ben. 

     Beverly is sitting at the table, and when the words come out of Mikes mouth, she stops her sewing machine immediately. She was working on a new dress, at least that's what she said earlier.     

      Ben was just glad it didn't involve any glittery tulle this time. That stuff stuck to the kitchen table and everything else in the kitchen for two weeks. Luckily she had avoided putting it in the washer.

       “In what way, Hanlon?” She says, carefully pulling back her chair, as to not mess with any of the fabric. 

“Well, he was handsome,” He pauses, making his way around to sit on the opposite side of the couch. “Very well put together,” He plops down. “And was asking for a Mr. Ben Hanscom. That’s all I got on him.”

Ben has Monday’s off, and he’s not exactly sure why. He’s sure all those years ago when he started working at the library, they had asked him what day sounded best. Monday, he guesses high school Ben would presume, would be the best day to have off. Mike Hanlon, co-worker and best friend, got Fridays off. Now that Ben is twenty-six and still working at the library, he may or may not regret it. Well okay, he definitely regret it.

“C’mon Ben~” Beverly sings. “Who’s the mysterious stranger?”

Ben can feel his cheeks flush and he brings his beer up to his lips. It’s Monday, his day off. He can have a beer and relax. Plus, he’s no lightweight so it’s not like he was getting drunk or anywhere near it.

“Ben,” Mike always had a gentle voice, but even then it sounded like it was prodding for answers. “Come on. Give us something.”

Ben looks between the two of them, his two best friends who finally have something interesting to talk about. He can’t blame them. Ben, although a romantic, had a pretty bumpy love life. He’s reached adulthood and he’s still not sure exactly who he is...Girls are lovely and soft, but boys can be too. And he’s not close minded. He knows gender is a spectrum, and he’s pretty sure he could fall in love with anyone at anytime regardless of what their gender is. 

He’s just always been so uncomfortable with himself. He didn’t think he was capable of being comfortable with anyone else, except maybe Beverly and Mike. But it wasn’t the same as falling in love romantically, that was for sure.

“I tutor his kid.” Ben says finally, getting up to throw his bottle into the recycling bin. It’s not that far from the couch, just a few paces past Beverly. 

The two of them have gone silent, Beverly biting her lip and Mike looking like he knows something that Ben doesn’t. It leaves him in an awkward situation. Should he go back to his seat? Or should he just lean up against the counter? He chose the latter.

“He seemed pretty disappointed when I told him you weren’t there.” Mike says, a smile creeping onto his face. “I bet he’s got his eye on you.”

Over the years, Mike had become more and more optimistic. He was a soft guy, Ben guesses. Ben has been called that before, and he doesn’t think many people realize that all of those qualities are amplified in Mike Hanlon. 

Ben shakes his head, but Beverly nods enthusiastically. “Aw, Ben! Give him a chance.” She says, and that’s the thing about Beverly. She is far more invested in everyone else’s love lives than she is her own. She doesn’t play matchmaker, but she dutifully encourages both of them to find all those ‘fish in the sea’. Ben can’t remember the last time she had been on a date her.

“He was really good looking Bev, no joke.” Mike says, sitting up from his slumped position on the couch so he can untie his shoes. “Like Adonis levels of beauty.”

“Like ‘I’d want him to model for me’ kind of beauty?” Her interest seemed to peak as she asked the question with raised eyebrows. A grin breaks out across her face when Mike nods the affirmative. “Ben.” She says seriously. “He is obviously interested in you if he asked if you were working.”

Ben shakes his head. “He could just be asking about his kid.”

“You tutor on Thursdays.” Mike points out. “It’s not like anything has changed since then...and shouldn't he have your number?”

Another shake of Ben’s head. “I just  _ met  _ him on Thursday. The kid’s mom usually picks him up.” It’s so odd talking about his tutoring with Mike and Bev, who have never really asked besides at the beginning for scheduling purposes.

“Oh, Ben,” Beverly starts. “i didn’t realize-”

“I don’t think they’re together anymore.” Ben says, allowing Beverly to save her breath. “By the way they were talking when he picked him up, they don’t get to do stuff like that often.”

At first, Ben had thought the same way Beverly had. They were together and Ben was going to get in the way of some marital relationship or something. Now, it wasn’t his place to speculate, but the separation seems to be the only thing that makes sense. Parker never talked about his dad, and his dad never picked him up. Patty never mentioned him either.

“Then what’s stopping you?” Beverly sounded scandalized, almost. Bev is impulsive, Ben has realized. If she really wanted someone, she’d ‘jump their bones’ Her words, not his.

Ben shrugs.

“Ben doesn’t feel right because his job is to teach this guys kid.” Mike reads well, and there is no other person he reads quite like Ben Hanscom. He knows every boundary, every uncomfortable topic, every nonverbal cue. 

Ben nods.

“His name is Stan.” Ben says, and it sounds forlorn. “And he  _ winked  _ at me.”

When he glances over at Beverly, she looks heartbroken for him. She stands up and heads toward the counter to wrap a reassuring arm around him, and Mike sends his condolences from across the room. 

Ben is somehow weak in the knees for Stanley Uris, a man who was probably just asking about his kid’s academics or for a certain book in the library. Stanley Uris did not ask men like Ben Hanscom to dinner. It just wasn’t probable. Some people were just naturally flirty...Stan could be one of those people.

Not to mention the Parker ordeal. Wasn’t that morally iffy? To date the fatherof a child he tutored? The thought made him squirm. 

On top of that, Stanley might not even be gay...or interested in men. Either way, even if he did like men, the chances of him liking one particular man who worked at the library and also tutored his kid?

When the factors stacked, it just made everything seem one thousand times worse. He sighed and buried his head in Beverly’s shoulder. She smelled like peppermint.

He had a feeling that all of this would be an ongoing problem. Something he couldn't fix or get the guts to confront. Or even worse. Someone would confront Stanley for him. 

OnFriday, Ben was finally glad that Mike has a day off work.

Since Ben came back to work on Tuesday, Mike has really been setting him on edge. Of course, it wasn’t on purpose or to hurt him in any way. Mike would never do that. However, it did get Ben’s hopes up everytime he heard a sharp inhale of breath paired with the bell above the door. At one point, Mike seemed to be so on alert that the sound of a book going through the return slot made him perk up.

It had left Ben ready to jump out of his skin all week. It didn’t matter if he was shelving books or dusting the shelves, or if he was in the back room with all the documents. Mike had him thinking that Stan could be walking in any minute and it wasn’t quite fair. 

Yesterday was Thursday. 

Parker had read a whole chapter out loud and shelved at least twenty books from the return cart. He had stayed for the full hour and it was easily said that he was far more enthusiastic than last week. 

However, Ben had still been checking the clock all day. Just waiting for four to roll around. He kind of felt a little giddy the closer it got. But when the clock struck four, Patty Blum came tittering through the door to pick up her son. Everything was back to normal. Stan Uris was not coming to pick up Parker.

Anxiety all week had consumed him, but not today. Today he could go about his business just fine. He got the honor of doing payroll too.

He’s not much of a writer, but he can still attest that writing with a gel pen is one of the best things in the world. The soft scratching, the ease of the tip against the paper. There are very few things that Ben did that involved writing, so counting u everyone's hours and writing the totals at the bottom was one of the few excuses he had. In a way, it makes him miss his college days when he was studying architecture and-

His rising indignation was interrupted by the ringing of the bell that was literally five feet away from him. “What do ya need?” 

“There’s no need to sound so cross.” A familiar voice said from the other side of the counter. “If you didn’t want me ringing it, maybe you should take down the sign.”

For one, Stan is here.

Stan is standing right there at three in the afternoon on the other side of the counter, looking at Ben of all people.

      It's an odd feeling you get when you meet someone for the second time, Ben thinks. One idea of Stan is already planted in his brain, the first impression. The second meeting only strengthens it, in this case. 

       What Ben has gathered is that Stan always looks composed, even when he isn't trying apparently. He's wearing black slacks and a patterned blue shirt, much less casual but just as intimidating as the khakis and turtleneck he was wearing last week. 

        Ben has the sudden urge to take the sign down. 

       It's not because Stan is right, but how Stan says it. A suggestion with a hint of skepticism makes Ben doubt everything, like he's all wrong. Like he's the one who decided to put the sign there in the first place even though it was Mike’s idea. 

       “Sorry.” He says earnestly, although he isn't quite sure what he's sorry for. “What can I help you with?”

        Some sort of panic flits across Stans features, and Ben just barely picks up on it. It's only there for a second before it disappears completely, fine features falling back into their neutral appearance. 

        “I need help finding a book.” He says simply. His fingers tap on the edge of the counter as if Ben is going to tell him  _ no.  _

__      “What are you looking for, then?” Ben stands up, pushing his chair out behind him. 

         Stan pulls back from the conversation for a second, it seems. Ben has only seen the man twice, but it's obvious that he has this habit where he  _ literally  _ takes a step back. It's something in his demeanor, along with the extra foot of space, that makes Ben feel a bit awkward. 

         “Parker’s coming over this weekend.” He says, and his face softens from its usually stoney expression. “And I really don't know what he reads.”

          “Didn't you read to him last weekend?” Ben said. It may seem a little odd to remember something from a conversation that long ago, but it's not his fault he had been analyzing the interaction all week. Anyway, Stan had seemed pretty excited to read to his son, and Parker seemed overjoyed when his dad agreed to it. 

            “Uh,” Stan doesn't seem to phased that Ben remembers the detail. “I did, but he wasn't too excited about the selection I had.” 

          Stan doesn't seem embarrassed by it, but it's obvious that he wants to fix the whole issue. Ben admires him for that. When he was growing up, his mother made sure to provide him with all sorts of books. They weren't rich by any means, but his mother and him spent many afternoons at garage sales and Goodwill trying to find something that would interest him. He is thinks it's nice that Stan is trying to foster some kind of environment for learning. It's what Parker really deserves. 

           “Do you know what kind of stuff he's into?” Ben asks, but Stan just looks at him blankly. “Cars, dinosaurs? Superheroes?”

        “History, I suppose.” Well, there's something that Ben didn't know. 

       He figured that Parker would have a more conventional fixation. They once had a thirty second conversation about his Spider-man sneakers, but that was it as far as interests went. 

         “Anything specific?” Ben questions, coming out from behind the counter. He makes sure Stan is following him before he heads over to the children's historical fiction section. History was definitely Mike's thing, but he could probably navigate the subject matter just by how much his friend talked about it. 

             Stans nose scrunches up in what looks to be concentration. After a moment or two, he sighs. “Do you happen to know what time period the Felicity American Girl Doll books took place in?”

           That was not what Ben was expecting at all. Maybe something along the lines of World War II or maybe the Civil War… but categorizing eras by what American Girl doll existed during that time? That was new. 

       “I'm not sure.” He admits. “But we can find out.”

        “Good.” Stan seemed relieved. “That's good. And just in case I need help in the future, could I have your phone number?”

 

* * *

 

       Stanley Uris isn't quite sure if he knows how to be a dad. 

       It's crazy to say because he has been one for a little over seven years. But what twenty year old, a sophomore in college, thinks they know how to be a dad? He can't think of many. He wouldn't even include himself. 

        He knows it's weird to admit, but he had always wanted a kid. Stan just knew he wanted one. And not in the way that most guys do, like how they just accept the fact that they're going to get married and be a dad somewhere down the line. No, Stan felt more attuned to those few girls in his home economics who spent free periods picking out baby names. 

    He had been so excited to be an adult, to build some sort of family. Doing that with Patty Blum while he was still in college just wasn't the plan. 

     And he also didn't exactly know he was gay. 

     So yeah, they may have broken up before Parker was even born. That didn't mean he wasn't a dad. He got lots of visitation in the beginning, or options for it, to say the least. Working twice as hard to make enough money to send child support really cut back on spending time with the tiny toddler. 

     Now that Parker was grown, he usually got every other weekend to spend with him. It was easier now that he was somewhat self sufficient. If he was hungry, he could grab himself something from the pantry. If he needed to go to the bathroom, he knew where to find it. Stanley no longer had to micromanage his son, and could actually spend his time with Parker having  _ fun.  _

__ On this particular Friday, Stan was sitting in the parent pick up line outside of the elementary school. A little tag is hanging from the front mirror with Parkers name on it, something Patty had graciously given him so he wouldn't have to go inside everytime he picked him up. 

        He pulls up just a little bit before he sees the door open, Parker running out to climb in his car. 

        That's a sight that he never get tired of. His son being excited to see him. 

        The back door of the vehicle opens and he can hear the boy clamber inside. He still really hasn't mastered climbing into the SUV, but at least he knew how to put his own seatbelt on. 

        “Poppa? What's this?” Stan hears him say after the seatbelt clicks. 

        Stan smiles. “Why don't you read it and find out?”

__ Parker seems to ponder the suggestion a bit before actually taking it. “Meet,” He manages that word so quickly because it's a sight word. Stan figures that is something that Ben practices with him. “Fee-” He stops and starts over. “Feliss- Felicity!” Parker seems stunned and overjoyed all at once. 

       Stan watches as Parker leans forward, being stopped by his seatbelt. “How did you know?” He whispers loudly, as if there was someone else in the car. 

       He finds it hard not to act smug as he pushes on the gas and pulls out of the ridiculously long line of cars. “A little birdie told me.”

        Parkers nose wrinkles. “You tol’ me birdies can't talk.”

        “You're the birdie, kiddo.”

        Parker laughs and Stan can hear the pages of the book beginning to turn. 

        He doesn't get too far into the book, which Stan is happy about, because Richie's house isn't all that far away. It's something Stan doesn't even have to announce anymore or remind Parker about. In fact, if they didn't head to Uncle Richie's after school, Parker would probably think something is up. 

         Friday night dinners at Richie's were basically a tradition, especially during tax season when Stan could barely function (and that was only four months away). Richie would order pizza or shitty takeout or maybe cook something out of a box if he was feeling up to it. Stan didn't care, it was one less thing he had to worry about. Plus, Richie loved Parker. Richie loved kids in general, and got on with them quite well. It was his job after all, since he worked at a daycare part time to help support himself. The comedian thing was slowly but surely starting to pick up, and Stan assumed Friday night dinners would be moved to something ridiculous like a Tuesday. 

     “Little man!” Richie says as both Stanley and Parker climb out of the car. The man was anticipating their arrival since he was hanging out on the porch step. 

     Parkers little legs carry him straight through the grass, ignoring the sidewalk that Stan opts to take. Within moments, he is bulldozing into Richie's arms. It's impressive that he managed to not trip over Richie's gangly legs. 

     “Uncle Richie!” Stanley is 99 percent sure his son just broke his eardrum. 

      “How was your day at school?” And with that simple question, Parker is off. Richie gets the boy to talk more than Stanley has ever heard. 

      That's how the night carries on. Richie could just pretend to be interested, it wouldn't matter to Parker, but Richie seems genuinely interested in everything the seven year old has to say. Stanley thinks it's endearing, but also Richie is kind of a man-child. He could say that, Richie was his best friend. 

      It's hours later, after the pizza had been ordered and Parker had fallen asleep on the couch, that the two men could be found in the kitchen. Richie had poured Stanley a glass of wine, although glass was subjective because it was actually in a free plastic cup from Pasta House. 

          “It's not January yet,” Richie said, taking a drink of his fruity abomination from a can. “You do all that frowning and you’ll get wrinkles.”

With that comment, Stan’s frown deepened.

“Okay, what happened with the hot librarian?”

Stan crosses his arms and holds on to the stem of the glass tighter. “I asked him for his phone number.”

And here’s the thing, Stan knows it’s not a big deal. In fact, Stan has asked plenty of guys for their phone number plenty of times. Except for he doesn’t think his intentions came off as flirty, or ‘Hey! I wanna go on a date with you!’ It was more like ‘Hey! I have a son!’ He knows it’s not a bad thing, and he would never blame Parker for any of it, but having a son made dating complicated.

He’s told Richie as much before. His best friend has told him the only solution that could actually make it easier, which involved being a shitty dad. Even Richie said it would be a bad idea, and only brought it up to tell Stan not to think about it.

“And?”

“I got it.”

Richie groaned. “So text him, you uptight ass. It’s not that complicated.” 

Stan sets his wine glass on the table and brings one hand to the bridge of his nose. “I know nothing about him,” he gritted. “We only have one thing in common and that’s Parker.”

Richie sucked in a breath through his teeth, obviously not thinking that through. “Oh,” the tap of aluminum from his can on the granite countertop rings throughout the kitchen. “Well you could just ask him what’s up.”

“That’s not what I told him I wanted his number for.” Stan realized at this moment that there was no smoothe or subtle way to go about it now. That was his approach to most things. Cool and calm, maybe a little to stoic, and if things didn’t go how he wanted them, then he’d get a little frazzled. 

       “Well, Stanley,” Richie began as he grabbed the bottle of wine and poured Stanley another drink. “Start with that then.”

     He huffed. “I think I'll pass.”

     Richie didn’t seem to argue any farther, and the conversation pushed on for the rest of the night. Every time his glass was empty though, Richie didn’t hesitate to fill it. Stan can barely keep up with whatever conversation they’re having, but that’s nothing new.  Around midnight, Parker came walking into the kitchen with his fists rubbing at his eyes. The laughing between the two men died down almost immediately.

“What’s up, little guy?” Richie said, crouching down to get down to Parker’s level.

“You and poppa are being  _ loud. _ ” He mumbled, the shuffling of his feet continuing even though he was no longer moving forward. “And it’s  _ late. _ ”

Stanley set down his long empty wine glass, because Richie thankfully did not decide to crack open another bottle. He didn’t trust his balance enough to crouch down like his best friend, who had only had his one drink two hours ago, so he just spoke instead. “Sorry bud, we’ll be more quiet. Wanna go back to sleep?”

Parker looked back and forth dubiously, trying to see if his dad was fooling with him. “Does this mean we get to…” Another glance to the side. “Stay the night?”

Stanley nodded, a grin on his face, and Parker scuttled off.

That’s really the last interaction that Stanley could recall, which wasn’t surprising. He does know that he fell asleep on the couch, and Richie must have tucked him tightly with one of his Black Panther blanket so he wouldn’t roll off. Water and ibuprofen was sitting on the end table and his phone was plugged in across the room. He heard noises from the kitchen and-

“ _ Shhhhhh. _ ” One of Richie’s theatrical whispers. “You’ll wake your dad up.”

Parker only laughed louder.

Stanley threw his legs over the side of the couch and stood up. It only took him about seven seconds of reflection to realize he should probably take the ibuprofen. With that, he made the short walk to the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Richie Tozier’s kitchen was a relatively clean place. It was mostly white (which...mistake) with dark blue accents. He had a farmhouse sink and shelves instead of cabinets. In front of the gas stove, Richie was cooking bacon. On the granite counter only a few feet away, Parker was standing on a step stool so he could clearly see the pancake he was decorating.

He could sneak up on Parker, but he decided against it. “Little too late for that one, ‘m afraid.”

“Poppa!” Parker, despite how excited he was, carefully climbed down from his step stool before bolting across the kitchen to hug Stan’s legs. “Me and Uncle Richie are making breakfast. He said you’d need it.”

Richie gave Stan a goofy thumbs up right over Parker, who was oblivious to exactly why Stan would need breakfast. He looked down at his watch, surprised to see that it was only nine in the morning. In fact, it was almost alarming that Richie was up this morning.

“Sometimes I forget he can navigate the house on his own.” Richie said, acquiring paper towels and a plate to put the fried bacon on. “Woke me right up. Thought I’d let you sleep a little longer though.”

“Tha-”

“Are you hungry, poppa?” Parker’s hands gripped onto the plate that his creation was sitting on. “I made it for you.”

While a pancake covered in whipped cream and chocolate chips was not Stan’s normal breakfast (he preferred egg whites and turkey bacon), he nodded. Parker set the plate down on the table and struggled to pull the chair out. Stan knew that if he tried to help, Parker would complain. After a few seconds longer than necessary, he managed to get it himself. Once Stan sat down, however, Parker was nowhere to be found.

Stan, regardless of whether his son was there to witness it or not, picked up a fork and cut a neat triangle out of the pancake. He could see Richie’s amused face as his own scrunched up. He definitely couldn’t eat sugar like he could when he was a teenager, but Richie kept his candy habit strong.

      “You might not want to eat all of that.” Richie says, sliding the bacon and toast his way. “Too much sugar will just make it worse. The bacon is turkey by the way, totally kosher.”

       Stan just shakes his head and eats the food he's given. Richie has been told multiple times over the years that Stan doesn't have  _ any  _ dietary 

restrictions. Somewhere along the line he just gave up. 

         “On a separate note,” Richie sits down across from him and swipes the plate with the pancake. “You may wanna check your phone.”

         Stan quirks a brow. 

         “Just trust me. For once.” Richie says earnestly. “You were almost New Year's Eve of 2014 bad.”

       Stan's face falls immediately. 

       “But you didn't do anything as stupid!” Richie amends quickly. “I wouldn’t of let that happen.”

      “Fine.” Stan says shortly, pushing his chair away from the table. He would have to see for himself, he supposes. 

      Parker pushes past him while he heads to the living room, looking up and asking him if he liked the pancake. He gives the warmest affirmative possible, and Parker makes his way to the kitchen. 

       He unplugs his phone, appreciative of the bar that is all the way filled in the top right corner. There are zero notifications on the screen, mostly because Stan had most of them turned off. At least that gave him the chance to admire his lockscreen for a moment, a picture of Richie, Parker, and him smiling outside the gates of the nearest theme park. Richie had gotten them in somehow since he performed there at some point last summer. 

          The happy feeling the photo gave him was gone when he unlocked his phone and saw the red circle that appeared over his green messaging app. Maybe he should turn his notifications back on. 

_ That sounds great! I'm usually free on Sunday nights.  _

_           Wait.. Are you drunk? _

__ Bens responses popped up on the screen one by one, and Stanley felt his face heat up in embarrassment. The disappointment wasn't hard to spot, even in a text. He guesses Ben sent that text around the time he passed out, or could no longer locate his phone.

“Richie!” He calls. “You’re a liar!”

“Hey!” Parker yells back at him. “Poppa you said we couldn’t call people liars!”

Well, goddammit. He keeps his phone gripped in his hand as he heads back towards the kitchen. There was no way he was going ot be able to yell at Richie with Parker right there. He sits down next to his son, who is sitting improperly on one of the barstools and inspecting whatever Richie is doing at the sink.

“You’re right bud.” Parker just sticks his tongue out in response. “But can you let me and Uncle Richie talk for a minute.”

Parker looks skeptical for a moment, but he doesn’t argue with Stan. Thank god for that, because Stan is not exactly sure how he could bribe Parker to evacuate the room at this point. The boy nods and hops off the stool, running off again. Like a little tornado, Stan supposes.

Richie turns to him and raises his eyebrows, as if he hasn’t heard the whole one-sided conversation that just happened. “What’s up?”

“You said I didn’t do anything stupid.” Stan puts his face in one of his hands, making his face red. 

Realization dawns on Richie’s face as he looks between the phone in Stan’s friend and his best friend. He sets down the spatula that was in his hand and took the second round of bacon off the heat.

“The texts.” Richie says.

“The texts.” Stan parrots, his grip tightening on the phone and his face scrunching up.

“It’s not that bad,” Richie tries to reason. “Just tell him the truth, if you wanna fix it. Or we could always calls up Bill to help you with the romance.”

Stan scoffs and puts his phone on the counter. There were a few things that he could do, but none of them made too much sense besides fixing it. He couldn’t avoid Ben forever, so he would definitely have to say something to him eventually. Bill, their mutual childhood friend who wrote terrifying horror novels, probably wouldn’t be much help in a romance situation considering Richie was his romantic partner of choice.

“Fine.” Stan said. “I’ll fix it.”

“And if you somehow get better than Bill, help Eddie get the stick out of his ass.”

So Stan guesses he should send a text. He picks up his phone and types something quick.

_ Hey, sorry about that. I was drunk. _

Pressing send felt kind of bitter, and he could feel Ben’s disappointment even if he hadn’t read the message yet. Almost immediately, Stan began to type out another one.

_ I’d still want to do dinner Sunday though. _

He wanted to hit himself. He knew he couldn’t avoid Ben, but he didn’t think getting that close was a good idea either.

* * *

 

 

“You’re quite handsome,” Beverly says as she dusts off Ben’s shoulders. 

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes and rolled his shoulders instead, as if it would undo whatever Beverly had just done. It wasn’t a fancy dinner at all, and he’s pretty sure they’re just going to the one French cafe over on Wurdack. It definitely wasn’t upscale, but Beverly still insisted that he wore khakis. His belt and shoes matches, but he insisted to Bev that he got to put on his boots.

“I sure would hope so.” He wiped at his brow. He felt like he was buzzing, nervous about this whole ordeal.

Mike lounged on Ben’s bed, only a few feet from where the other two were standing. “You’ll knock ‘em dead, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t want to knock someone so out of my league  _ dead. _ ” Ben said, feeling his face heart up a bit. There was no way to be prepared for a date with Stanley Uris.

After a string of text messages, Ben had properly set up a date with Stan. Anyway, he’s sure someone said that what someone does drunk is what they really want to do sober. He hadn’t been on a date in months, and he honestly didn’t know how to say no either. 

He would be lying to himself if he said that he wouldn’t have said yes anyway. He’s actually glad that Stan asked him, instead of it being the other way around. That way he wouldn’t be a bumbling fool when he did so. And he’s glad it wasn’t dragged out for weeks on end.

Bev rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what Mike meant.” She said, taking a step back to look at her barely noticeable handiwork. She had given him so beard oil to make his facial hair look more put together and made him apply moisturizer...which felt unnecessary. He’s pretty sure that Stan will not care if he moisturizes or not...even though he’s sure that Stan does. Seriously, whose skin looks that good?

He’s pretty sure he has how Stan looks committed to memory, even though he has only seen him a handful of times.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to drive you?” Mike asks as he flips a page from the Smithsonian newsletter that he receives monthly. 

“I’m not going to drink,” Ben reassures. He wasn’t sure he could say the same for Stan, or in fact, how this night would end. He doesn’t know much about Stan...the more he thought about it, the more anxious he got. “I’ll just take my truck.”

“If you’re sure.” Mike says, flipping another page.

Bev didn’t seem to like Mike’s response very much. “Let me drive you.” She insists. “And you can call me anytime you want, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Ben knows it has been a hot minute since he’s gone on a date, but that had always been the established rule when they went out. If someone was drunk, uncomfortable, or just wanted to leave, someone would drive to the apartment. It was usually Ben picking up the other two, but he knew it went both ways.

He looks in the mirror another time. “I think I can handle it.” He said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Okay, let’s not think about it like that.” Mike said as he put his newsletter to the side. “Your luck isn’t that great. Remember the last girl who practically tried dragging you to her apartment after sitting down for appetizers?”

Bev looks at him in a way that says, ‘Hey...Mike is right.’

“Or-”

“Mike,” She interrupts though. “I think one example is enough.”

Ben knows that Mike is right, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be hopeful about this date. Stan was different, and they’d been texting for three days straight. He feels like a highschooler again.

“I’m older now.” Ben says. “People take me more seriously now.”

He also knows that he is kind of lying to himself, but he convinces Beverly and Mike to let him take his own truck. Nothing would make someone take him less seriously more than being dropped off and picked up by Mother Beverly. 

The drive isn’t far, and even though parallel parking isn’t his strong suit, he manages to make his way into the restaurant and request a table for two. It’s around ten minutes earlier than they agreed to meet, and the least he can do is get them a table so they don’t have to stand awkwardly in front of the pastry display cases.

Sunday night didn’t seem to be too busy, and Ben thought it must be because the weather was getting colder. That was a thing that happened, he was pretty sure. The hostess led him through the restaurant, past tables with white tablecloths and red placemats. 

“Would you like something to drink, or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?” She asks as he sits down in the seat.

He agrees to a glass of water, which she happily pours for him before she disappears to take care of her other tables. He pulls out his phone and shoots a quick text to Stan, telling him that he is here and already has a table.

No response is received but that’s because Ben assumes Stan is the kind of person to text and drive, even though Ben hates making assumptions. He does suspect that Stan will get out of his car and check his phone before walking into the restaurant.

Once the clock struck six, Ben got infinitely more nervous. The waitress had already refilled his water once, giving him a somewhat sad look. He couldn’t tell if Stan opened his text, and he didn’t know how long he should wait. 

Every time he saw a car pass by, he tried to get a look in the driver's seat. Every time someone opened the door, he found himself turning his head.

Tables started filling up around him and he picked up his phone, his whole body practically thrumming with anxiety. He would say he’s not a very anxious person. He’s usually level headed and practical, but at this moment he felt like he was going insane. 

“Can I get a glass of wine please?” He asked the waitress the next time she came around. Which led to another, and another, and he thinks in total he had about five. The next time the waitress came around, he asked for one of the pastries he saw in the display case and his check.

It was seven, a whole hour after they were supposed to meet, and he didn’t think he could sit there any longer than he already had. It was as if everyone’s eyes were on him and Ben hated it.The check was thirty dollars, which wasn’t bad he supposes since his meal was liquid and sugar.

“Sir,” The waitress, god the font on her nametag was so tiny, said. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Oh,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Beverly will pick me up.” His fingers fumbled with typing out the message to his friend.

If he was more attentive, he could see the way her eyes turned down that read as pity. She wished him a good night as she handed him back her card, and he got up to head towards the entrance.

Sober him was correct about the cold because as soon as the sun went down, so did the temperature. He was glad that he grabbed his jacket on the way out the door, and the cold seemed to sober him up a little bit. 

Minutes felt like hours until Beverly’s car pulled up in front of the restaurant. When he went to climb in the passenger’s seat, however, Mike climbed out.

“Give me the keys, buddy.” Mike held out his hand to Ben, who began to dig in his pocket for the set. His friend seemed calm, as always, and maybe a little sad. Beverly, however, would probably handle this whole situation very differently. “Don’t want you getting towed.”

His friends always thought of everything. “Thanks.” 

Mike brushed it off, saying it wasn’t a problem, so Ben climbed into the passenger seat of Beverly’s car. Behind the wheel was the woman herself, who didn’t seem all too pleased with the situation.

He knew that Beverly was not mad at him, never at him. The call for a ride wasn’t an inconvenience or hindrance on her plans. Beverly would just have to be kept five hundred feet from Stanley Uris at anytime after he explained the situation, which would be easy since she didn’t come to the library often.

“Seatbelt.” She said, and Ben was quick to comply. “What happened?”

“Didn’t show.”

“That mother-”

“Hey, it’s no big deal.” Ben shrugged as she pulled out of the parking spot. “No big deal.”

“Just because you say it twice doesn’t make it true.” Beverly says, but Ben doesn’t say anything in response. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for the rest of the car ride. He doesn’t feel like anything has to be said, he had already spoken the facts.

He’s brought up to the apartment and tucked into bed, Beverly pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He’d probably feel better about it when Thursday came around, he’s sure of it.

The thoughts Ben had before he fell asleep were false, and as days went by without any contact from Stan, he couldn’t help but feel worse. He went to work, came home, drank a beer, then went to bed. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Beverly and Mike didn’t say much to him about it, probably just trying to give him some space.

Thursday came way too soon.

However, when three o’clock rolled around, he completely forgot that Stan was never one to bring Parker to tutoring anyway. He had been trying to push it to the back of his mind, refusing to overthink it or think about it at all. So when Patricia Blum came walking into the library, Parker in tow, he was forever grateful.

“Okay, honey.” Patty pressed a kiss to the top of Parker’s head. “What’s the rule for today?”

“No shelving books.” Parker says determinedly. “And stay sitting.”

Parker heads off to his spot, pulling out some books from his bag once he reaches the children’s area, and Patty heads towards the desk.

“Mr. Hanscom,” He had given up on trying to get her to call him Ben. “He just insisted on coming today, but he’s supposed to be on bedrest. Appendicitis, you know?”

“Oh-”

“Don’t worry, he got it removed. Just...be careful? He hasn’t been out of the house all week and wanted to see you.”

“Understood.” Ben said, getting up and walking around the counter. “We’ll just do some reading and talk about school then.”

She sounds relieved, says her goodbyes, and then is out the door. Usually she would stay for an even shorter period, but he supposes the explanation for Parker’s new rules are important for Ben to know, especially since Parker would be in his care for the next hour. 

He heads over to the table where Parker is reading Meet Felicity, the book he had given to Stan last week. His stomach did a little flip.

“How’s it going Parker?” He said gently as he sat next to the boy, the chair being far too tiny. Ben didn’t pay it any mind, since he was trying not to get Parker too excited. If there is one thing he knew about small children, it was that they were extremely excitable.

Parker seemed to ignore his question, looking up from his book. “Do you like my Poppa?” He said.

Well, that took Ben by surprise.

     “Uh...yeah.” He said lamely. “He's a nice man.”

     “Uncle Richie and him were talking about you in the kitchen.” Parker said nonchalantly. “He said you guys were going on a date. Momma didn't seem too happy about it.”

      Shit. 

* * *

 

_ You mind if I pick up Parker today? _

__ Stan decided that the text wasn't sufficient enough after he sent it to Patty, so he sent another to accompany it. 

_ I want to take him out to ice cream.  _

__ He was currently sitting at his desk at work taking an incredibly late lunch break thanks to his meetings. Working lunches were the worst, and he couldn't eat half of the food that was provided at his meetings. 

       Unexpectedly, his phone rang as he was taking a bite from his salad. At 3;15, right towards the end of his work day. Patty. Fuck. 

       He pushed his chair back and picked up his phone, quickly heading to the hallway outside of all the offices. He didn't have time to go outside, so this was the closest thing to privacy he was going to get. 

       “Hi, did you get my-”

       “Yeah,” She said sharply. It was obvious that she didn't call to mess around. “And that's why I called. If you think you are going to use our child as some sort of pawn in some dating game, you are-”

        “Wait,” He interrupted. “What?”

        “Parker told me you had a date with  _ Mr. Hanscom.  _ “

        Stan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans against the bleak office wall. He’s not sure that he could explain this all sufficiently, or even if he wanted to.

Patty and him were amiable, they didn’t leave each other on bad terms. He just realized he was gay and also could not drop out of college, or his parents would kill him. It was definitely more complicated than that, but when simplified? That’s what it came down to. Patty said she respected his decision and Stan was around all of the time until he graduated.

“I didn’t go on a date with him.” Stan said. “Just let me pick him up.”

“No.” She put her foot down. “You will get to see him tomorrow, after he goes to school. You can fix your problems on your own time, without using your son as an excuse.”

“Patty, wa-”

Before he could say anything else, the line went dead. He shoved his phone in the pocket of his slacks and hung his head. A tension was thrumming right behind his eyes, the beginning of a stress headache.

The headache was in full swing by time he made it back to his apartment, the last thirty minutes of work not helping. He heated up some leftovers in the microwave, ate them in front of the television while Jeopardy played, and then decided to go to bed early. Three hours early. He would have to deal with all the issues tomorrow...before he picked up Parker from school.

The next morning dragged on ostensibly, with nothing but the usual happening. He plugged in numbers, he talked on the phone to clients, and he had meetings all throughout lunch. When 2:00 rolled, he packed up his stuff and headed out the door without telling his team where he was going.

If they wanted to report him to corporate, he is sure that he could talk himself out of it. It would take some lying, which he usually isn’t a fan of but not above it. His job is nice, and if this thing didn’t pan out like he planned over the long term, he’s not sure it’s worth losing his job over. Of course, he could always move far away. Or just out of town, because he just doesn’t want the chance to run into Ben Hanscom. 

Climbing into his car, he waited a moment to start the engine. He obviously hadn’t thought this through, he was very aware that he hadn’t.

Stan had never been so impulsive before.

In all honesty, he knows that skipping out on a date because his child was in the hospital made perfect sense. What didn’t make sense was giving the Ben the cold shoulder for practically a week because he was a coward. As long as he doesn’t turn the tables, make it someone else’s fault, owns up to his mistake...He should be good, he’s sure.

It was just a case of overthinking, that he knew. However, that didn’t stop him from being anxious. The beating of his heart could be felt in his ears, and a valiant attempt was made to ignore it, but that felt impossible.

His fingers tapped at an increasing rate the closer he got to the library.

This seemed like a bad idea.

For a brief moment, he thought about turning around and just showing up to the parent pick-up line a little early. Or...he checked his watch. Forty five minutes early. Fuck, that just wouldn’t work out.

Finding a parking spot was easy at the town’s library. No one could be bothered to show up to the library right before the beginning of their weekend. Saturday, however,  would probably be a little busier with all the free time.

The walk to the doors felt like a death march, and the fact that no one was behind the counter didn’t make it much better.

“Hello?” He called out to seemingly nobody.

A man with dark brown skin and kind eyes popped his head out from one of the bookshelves that sat behind the counter, and he must have been going through holds. He smiled a friend customer service smile that Stan was pretty familiar with.

“Hello, how can I help you?” 

“My name’s Stan,” He didn’t miss the way that the man’s face fell. “Is Ben here?”

The man looked over his shoulder and seemed to contemplate exactly what to say to Stan, which was understandable if this person knew who he was. “Ben’s not working today.”

Stan wasn’t going to fight it and knew it would be a losing battle regardless. IT took him a moment to collect his barings and admit defeat. He hadn’t always been the quickest at dealing with denial in situations like this, that was more Richie’s thing. Eddie always told Stan his emotions were constantly at play on his face when they were younger, so as he got older, Stan tried to school his expression a bit.

He felt like he was failing. 

“Okay,” He said slowly. “Understandable. Could you just...tell him I came by? I wanted to apologize.”

“Will do.” The man said shortly, not hesitating to going back to his shelving. 

Yeah, that felt like the final nail in the coffin. He turned his way around and took one final look at the library. Stan knew he would probably not be picking Parker up on a Thursday anytime soon.

“Wait!” A familiar voice said from behind the shelves, some stumbling was heard too. A book hitting the ground sounded throughout the space. A little old lady sitting in one of the rocking chairs looked up in surprise. “Stan, wait.”

Stan turned around, shocked to say the least, when he heard his name. There in the flesh was Ben Hanscom, the man who had apparently not been in today.

“I’m sorry I told Mike to lie-”

“No.” Stan interuppted, finally feeling as if though he had a spine. “That’s understandable. I’m the one that’s sorry.” He could feel his mouth moving at least a mile a minute. “I chickened out on your and I’m sorry.”

Ben looked surprised. 

“I haven’t gone on a date in...years.” Stan admitted. “And never on a date with someone who knew Parker beforehand. I didn’t want things to get complicated, and I really do like you.” 

The surprise turned to a look of dumbfoundedness. The more Stan talked, the less confident he was that he was saying the correct words. Instead of stopping and letting Ben say something, give him some kind of indicator, he just kept on talking.

“Most people run when they hear I have a kid, or decide that dating would be too much. I’ve just kind of avoided it.” He feels his voice catch. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that I ignored you all week. My kid came first that night but I still should’ve told you.”

Ben walks around the counter, making his way to where he is standing around four feet from Stan. He can feel the eyes going right through him, he’s sure of it. Mike is no longer standing behind the shelves, and has gone off to leave them alone. The old lady in the chair seems to have blocked them out.

“I just need you to understand that Parker is not an obstacle or thing to get around,” Stan breathes out. “But I like you, a lot.”

Ben’s face breaks into a smile. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay?” Stan seems to parrot back, relieved and a little confused himself.

“I wouldn’t say it’s okay if it wasn’t.” Ben says, voice and small line of laughter a little wet. “I like you too, you know.”

“That’s a relief.” Stan breathes out. “Because-”

For once in his goddamn life, Stan gets a backbone. He takes three steps forwards, plants his feet, and looks Ben directly in the eyes. They were...green. Incredibly so. Only a few moments later, he brings his hand up to Ben’s face and pulls him in closer, wishing that he himself were just a few inches taller, before crashing their lips together.

Ben kissed him back after the initial shock, and Stan couldn’t help but think  _ Finally. _

He fixed it, and he’s glad he did, and he didn’t want to jump ahead of himself but he could see himself kissing Ben Hanscom for a long time.

He thinks he felt his heart skip a beat.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @transuris


End file.
